We Start and End With Family
by xStealthxSniperx
Summary: Though feuds may divide us, we all start and end with family. OC main characters, but will evolve into something more.


**A/N: **This is something I wrote for my creative writing class in school about a month and a half(ish) ago. I was refraining from posting it before Fiction (my Avenged Sevenfold story), though, because reasons.

This is set in the Marvel-Asgard universe, obviously. It is kind of a prequel that's not a prequel to a possible (although it's really more than possible) slash between Loki and Burr that I will only write and post if people want me to.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Marvel characters belong to Marvel.

* * *

**We Start and End With Family**

Here is a scene. Wrinkled pages are rustling softly with the dancing wind in a tranquil bedroom. Warm light from the setting sun outside cascades into the unlit space and illuminates it with a gentle glow. A page crinkles as it is turned by eager young fingers, and the room settles into silence once more. The sun sinks lazily, winking a final good night before leaving its duties to the moon. A slight groan is uttered as the light recedes, and a small figure rises from his spot on the wool rug that sits next to his bed. He saunters over to the open window, admiring the dark landscape. Waving to the cheerful drunks strolling back home from the tavern, the boy sighs in content.

"Henrik!"

The boy grimaces and pushes away from the windowsill. He strides over to the staircase and calls down, "Yes, Father?"

Henrik hears a jovial laugh and his father moves into his vision. "Your uncle and cousin are here. Come say hello!"

A booming voice calls from the kitchen, "Yes, boy! Uncle Alf hasn't seen you in weeks!"

Scrambling down the steps, Henrik runs to his uncle and jumps into his waiting arms. "Uncle!" he cries excitedly, squeezing the man into a hug.

Alf chuckles and returns the embrace before releasing his nephew and looking him over. "You have grown since I saw you last, Henrik. You are turning into a fine young lad, indeed."

Beaming, Henrik thanks his uncle. Then he climbs off of Alf's lap and onto his cousin's. "Hi, Burr," he grins.

Burr ruffles Henrik's ash blond locks, "Hello, there, 'Rik. Have you enjoyed the storybook I brought you?"

Henrik gives an enthusiastic nod, "Most definitely. I spent the whole day reading it!"

His father grunts in affirmation, "That he did. He has your affinity for learning, Burr."

Burr lets out a laugh, "That is good to hear. This realm needs more scholars."

"Aye, it is true," Alf says. "Makt was originally designed to be for scientists and authors, yet it is following in Asgard's footsteps; most of our people are warriors or hunters. Take Frode for example—"

"Should we not tell Uncle Nils our idea?" Burr interrupts quickly.

Alf shrugs, "Why not? Nils, we have been thinking."

Henrik's father sighs theatrically, "That usually brings doom to our family, Alf. Haven't we discussed this?"

Giving a faux glare, Alf continues, "Since Henrik's birthday is this _Laugardagr_,1 we have thought of a brilliant way to celebrate. It is not every day your nephew turns ten!"

Henrik's father appraises his brother uneasily, "We received an untamed stallion from your last 'brilliant idea'. This one had better make up for that."

Alf chuckles awkwardly, "I have apologized for that many times, brother. Nonetheless, this idea _is_ brilliant. We want Henrik to go to Midgard!" 2

Nils skeptically stares at his brother, but says nothing. Henrik looks at his father expectantly, and a few moments pass before a word is uttered.

"He cannot go alone."

Burr swiftly jumps in, "Of course not, Uncle. I planned to join him."

At this Henrik quivers in excitement. Burr would keep the trip lively, he is sure.

Nils paces over to the stove, lighting a flame under the tea pot. "Do not take offense, Burr. I trust you completely, but I cannot allow only the two of you to go, either. Odin knows what sort of mischief you would get yourselves into."

Burr attempts to protest, but Alf speaks over him, "I agree with you, brother. But, who do you propose should go with them?"

Henrik's father pauses to grab three mugs and fill them with tea leaves then he turns back to his company, "I believe Frode should accompany them."

With wide eyes, Burr shakes his head, "No, Uncle! Not Frode!"

"Now, Burr, being a skilled leader in battle requires you to work with those you dislike sometimes," Alf scolds.

"This is not battl-"

"Frode shall accompany you to Midgard, or you shall not go at all," Alf commands.

Burr frowns, but says nothing more. Henrik, still on his lap, grips his sleeve apologetically and Burr gives him a small, reassuring smile. Nils comes to the table with steaming mugs of tea, passing two to Alf and Burr, and claiming the last one for himself.

"I apologize, Burr. I realize this will be difficult for you and your brother, but I ask that you try to be cooperative and make sure the focus of your visit is Henrik." Nils takes a sip of his drink to end his request and waits with a pleading smile curving across his lips.

Sighing, Burr gives his assent. "Now we must take our request to Odin," he murmurs.

Henrik giggles and elbows Burr gently. "Perhaps you will meet Prince Loki!" he whispers.

A fond smirk passes over Burr's features, and he whispers back, "Perhaps I will."

Alf takes a generous gulp of his tea. "We shall go tomorrow," he announces. "You better go pack your bags, Henrik; morning will come swiftly."

"Yes, Uncle," Henrik obeys, climbing from his cousin's lap. "Burr, will you help me?"

The two disappear upstairs into Henrik's room, and the kitchen falls silent.

"This will be an adventure," Alf murmurs.

"Aye," Nils agrees, taking Burr's mug.

**x x x**

As the sun rises the next morning, waving goodbye to the moon, a rosy light falls on the sleeping form of Henrik. He breathes slowly in his peaceful slumber, oblivious to the figure slinking into his room.

"Henrik," the voice sings sweetly. "Wake up, Henrik."

The boy stirs and cracks an eye open, "Burr?"

"It is time for breakfast. Your father made porridge."

Rolling dramatically from his warm blankets, Henrik groans, "Porridge again?"

Burr chuckles and tossed some clothes to the boy. "Yes, porridge – It is not your father's job to fatten you up, it is my mother's."

"Aunt Ingrid's bread and honey..." Henrik licks his lips. He pulls on his outfit and follows Burr downstairs, dragging his bag behind him. He then realizes that it didn't smell like porridge at all; the familiar aroma wafting through the air smells like…his aunt's cooking! Henrik furrows his brows at Burr, "You tricked me!"

Burr tousles his hair cheerfully, "I wished to surprise you!"

Henrik huffs and dashes into the kitchen, dropping his bag in the hall. The first person he sees is Frode, who is sitting at the dining table chatting with Henrik's father. When he sees the boy, he opens his arms wide and lets a grin settle on his features, "There is the boy, himself!"

"Hi, Frode!" Henrik gives his cousin a quick hug then rushes over to his aunt.

"There you are, darling," Ingrid greets him. "Look how skinny you are! I must visit more often!" She reaches down and pulls Henrik up into her arms.

Burr, who rests on the doorframe, gives Ingrid a sly smirk, "Why, not five minutes ago, he was complaining that his father was feeding him too much porridge."

Henrik flushes and looks to his father. Nils is laughing heartily, not fazed in the least, "I have never claimed to be as good a cook as your aunt, here."

Ingrid clicks her tongue and sets Henrik down. The honey has reached the perfect heat, so she drizzles it onto thick slices of warm buttered bread. She sets the dish down on the dining table and sits, waiting for the whole family to settle. Henrik climbs into the seat across from Frode, and Burr plops down next to him. Alf and Nils are already eyeing the food as a pack of ravenous wolves would.

After quickly giving thanks to Odin, they all reach for a piece of breakfast. Henrik devours his slice as young boys do, and licks his fingers clean when he finishes eating. He waits patiently as the others munch silently, until Frode speaks.

"After breakfast, we shall head out to Asgard, Henrik."

Henrik nods, "It shall be you, Burr, and myself?" Burr tenses very slightly beside him, and he immediately wishes he had worded his question differently.

"Going to Midgard, yes," Frode says. "My father will walk with us to Odin's palace to get his permission, but then he will return to Makt."

"If Prince Loki is present, I will request a spell to conceal your bags," Alf adds.

Burr relaxes at that, and Henrik sends him a grin. His cousin has great respect for the younger prince of Asgard. He admires the prince's skill in sorcery and his lethal fighting style – using petite, needlelike throwing knives to pick off enemies with stealth. Burr is a master with the bow, and appreciates the skill of distance weapons in others. He is also amazed by Prince Loki's intellect and easy way of manipulating words, a valuable skill when trying to stall or confuse an enemy. Burr has wished to meet the prince since he was a young boy, and Henrik has always thought they would be quick friends.

Soon breakfast is over and the cousins are retrieving their bags. They meet back in the kitchen to say goodbye.

"Be a good young man in Odin's court, now," Nils tells Henrik.

"I will, Father."

"Good man." Nils squeezes his son in a hug. Then he pulls away and unlatches the front door.

Warm air washes over Henrik and it smells like flowers and grass. He glances outside and sees the golden sun bathe the land in beauty. A soft breeze rustles the long green blades of grass and the playful laughing of children nearby makes Henrik feel at ease. This is why he loves Makt; it is a lush and gorgeous land. Henrik wonders what Asgard looks like. His mentors have told him that Makt is essentially a miniature version of Asgard, but that image doesn't sate his curiosity.

Ambling to his father's side, Henrik turns and watches Burr and Frode say goodbye to their mother.

"You will get along for Henrik's sake, won't you?" he hears Ingrid ask.

"Of course, Mother," Frode and Burr agree at the same time.

"Good. Be safe, my sons," Ingrid kisses their foreheads and follows them as they step outside as well.

The six of them stand in the warm sunlight for a moment, waiting for nothing in particular. Alf breathes in deeply, and asks, "Are you ready, lads?" and then they're off, waving goodbyes to Nils and Ingrid. The initial walk to the gates of Makt is quiet, save for the birds singing their morning song. Henrik can't help but hum along, excited for this new experience.

"This is quite an honor," Frode tells him merrily. "You will be the first _young_ lad from Makt to step foot in Odin's court."

Henrik ponders this. Most children his age are happy with playing games and learning the art of battle, but he is more enthusiastic about learning everything and seeing new things. It _is_ an honor to be seeing their king.

Alf waves to a guard as they pass through the front gate and motions toward Asgard. The guard nods, so they continue. Henrik notices that the Outlands are rocky and barren; trees are scarce and the grass is dry and prickly. It's such a difference from Makt that he can't believe this is the same realm.

_ 'How isolated we are," _he found himself thinking. How many citizens of Makt had walked this path before them? Not many, he is sure. No one has a true reason; Makt is well-supplied with its own food so the people have no need for trade.

The tip of a great tower looms majestically in the distance and Henrik realizes how close Asgard really is. It can't be more than five miles. He says as such to Burr and is answered with a grunt. "Aye. Yet the majority of Makt's citizens have never viewed the paramount beauty of our capital."

Henrik wants to ask if Burr has ever been to Asgard, but decides not to. The rest of their trek is spent in near silence. When the sun is at the peak of its rotation, they arrive at Asgard's threshold. Tall buildings peek over the gates, giving a preview at what lies inside. Henrik sees more gold than he could ever imagine.

Alf has a few words with a guard with sleek silver armor. Frode stands with him while Burr stays back with Henrik. The guard moves to open the gates and as they slowly slide open, the grandiose city within reveals itself. Henrik's mouth drops and he faintly hears Frode laugh at him. But his attention is on the city and its peculiar beauty.

"The king has received your message and awaits your arrival in his court," the guard states before they walk in.

Alf nods in gratitude and leads the way into Asgard. Henrik follows after him still gaping at the giant buildings and the luxurious people roaming the streets. It's almost as if poverty is a bad dream here. They move purposefully toward the palace, which is made of lustrous marble lined with gold and platinum. A servant is waiting for them in the front room.

"Please, follow me," she says quietly. She leads them through many halls and Henrik is sure they are lost – no one can have all this memorized! But then they step into a huge room with stairs leading up to a throne where a man sits, waiting patiently. A younger man stands next to the seated one, considering their group with an unreadable gaze. By the way Burr tenses next to Henrik, he is sure the man standing is Loki.

Odin stands as well, "Welcome, citizens of Makt."

Henrik kneels in mimicry of the others, finding himself awed by the king's presence. Still bowing, Alf speaks, "My lord, we bring to you a request."

Without a moment of hesitation, Odin commands, "Rise and name your request."

Henrik glances at Burr as he stands. His cousin's eyes are fastened on Prince Loki, who seems to be staring back. He chuckles inwardly, and misses Alf presenting his idea.

"You may do this," Odin allows after a brief moment of silence. "You must swear to keep your identities a secret, however. And you will bring no harm to any Midgardian. Am I understood?"

"Yes, my king," Frode, Burr, and Henrik respond in turn.

"If I may, your majesty," Alf adds quickly. "I wish to ask a favor of Prince Loki, that he provide a spell to conceal their bags."

Loki ponders for a moment. "In return for the company of your younger son when he returns."

Burr all but jumps out of his skin to answer, "Y-yes, of course, sire!"

Henrik notices Frode frown at this. It isn't a secret that Burr and Frode are bitter about a past argument, but why would Frode be displeased by Burr's happiness?

Loki raised his hands and misty green swirled around them. Henrik stares, wide-eyed, as the packs resting by their feet fade away. "There," the prince announces. "Now, whenever you need your bags, tell them to come to you and they will."

The three look confused by this, but they are being ushered out by the same servant who led them into the throne room. "We're off to the Bifrost, sirs," she says. "You'll be in Midgard very soon." She brings them to a bridge this time, one made of pristine…rainbow glass. Walking across it is almost surreal; it seems like time flies by on it. Soon they step into a giant golden dome, which Henrik figures is the Bifrost. A dark man clothed in heavy golden armor stands in the center, dutifully holding a golden greatsword.

It is almost too much to take in for Henrik. Asgard is wonderful and strange, and he isn't sure he needs to go to Midgard to have a remarkable birthday. The man speaks to them, but Henrik is still trying to comprehend all of what he has seen. He misses Alf's farewell and cries out when a blinding beam pulls him from the dome and plops him into a whole new landscape. Panting, Henrik looks around. Burr and Frode are brushing dust from their clothing, looking as disheveled as he is. There are more buildings across the road, but they look nothing like the ones in Asgard. Hordes of people are bustling on the side-streets, and bizarre metal creatures are zooming down black, striped streets. He tries to examine in more detail, but an exclamation from Burr has his attention snapping back onto his cousins.

"What bothers you _now?_"

Frode furrows his eyebrows before replying, "Must you always act like a self-righteous prat?"

Exasperated, Burr throws his hands up into the air, "Must we have this conversation?"

Henrik looks worriedly between the two and flinches as Frode booms, "I believe we must!"

Burr sneers, "Admit your childhood jealousy and let this feud be done with!"

"No such jealousy exists! I tire of your groveling to superiors to win their approval."

Henrik sits on the stone ground, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling them close to his torso; he hates when others fight, especially his family.

Burr growls, "I am offended that you think I grovel. I merely give my superiors the respect they deserve."

Giving a mocking laugh, Frode retorts sharply, "And I am a poet whose inspiration is love."

Burr snorts and gives a caustic reply, "That could not be further from the truth." He glances down at Henrik and his expression softens. "I tire of this," he sighs. "Meet me here again when you are fit to be around our cousin." With that he gently picks Henrik up and carries him away. Henrik doesn't know where they're going, and he's pretty sure Burr doesn't either.

"I apologize, Henrik," Burr whispers. "We were expected to keep this a joyful trip, but not five seconds go by before Frode and I spoil it."

Henrik wraps his arms tightly around Burr's neck in a hug, "I forgive you. But I wish you didn't hate each other."

Burr sighs, "I know." They are still walking aimlessly when they find a large edifice labeled "motel". A sign in front describes sleeping arrangements, so Burr heads inside. At the front desk, a young woman sits clicking her fingers on some sort of Midgardian technology. Henrik is confused, especially when she asks, "How many?" Burr seems to understand, though. He answers her and she takes out a key.

"It'll be thirty dollars a night. You can either pay now, or when you leave," she says.

Burr hesitates, "We will pay now."

"Alright, hon," the lady replies. "How long are you staying?"

After giving Henrik a contemplative look, he gives her an awkward smile, "Three days?"

Luckily, the woman doesn't seem fazed, "That'll be ninety dollars, hon."

Burr sets Henrik down and pulls out Midgardian currency from his pocket, handing her what he thinks is the right amount. Apparently it is, because she takes the money, asks for his name, and hands him the key. They wander off in search of their room after she tells them their number.

"Midgardians are peculiar," Henrik remarks.

Burr nods but says nothing. They find the room fairly easily and slip inside. It is nicely furnished; two beds are neatly made with striped blue blankets and white linen sheets. The floor is soft brown carpet and sinks slightly when Henrik steps on it. There is a strange scent in the air that he can't place, but it smells clean and seems to originate from the wash room. Henrik saunters over to one of the beds and plops onto it, sighing at the soft touch of the fabric.

Sitting gingerly on the blanket, Burr turns to face Henrik, who speaks up before Burr can. "What happens next?" he ponders.

Burr shrugs, "I do not know. We must find Frode, but his anger has most likely driven him far from here."

"You need to apologize," Henrik tells him.

"I did nothing!" Burr protests.

Henrik shakes his head, "It matters not. We cannot go home without Frode; essentially, we are stuck here if you do not make peace. And if we are to return home with good news, you must be reconciled to Frode. What would Prince Loki think if his favor was wasted on a ruined trip?"

Burr's head drops to his chest, "You are right. Our rivalry is not reason enough to act like spoilt babes. It is high time we were reconciled from our childhood anger."

Smiling, Henrik asks, "Shall we go find him tomorrow?"

"That might be best. A good night's rest will do you good, lad. Your young body is not used to such travel," Burr comments.

Henrik grumbles, but agrees nonetheless. He decides to figure out the wash room controls and bathes as quickly as he can. Burr is already asleep, curled beneath the fluffy comforter, when he emerges, steam billowing from the small wash room. Using Loki's instructions, Henrik calls upon his bag, grasping it gratefully when it appears on the floor. He changes into his night clothes and settled into his own bed. Sleep comes easily, and Henrik dreams of the wonders of Asgard.

**x x x**

The harsh sun wakes Henrik up the next morning; the drapes are open and he can see the busy city below, hustling about busily. He can hear Burr in the wash room, readying himself for the day. When he comes out, Henrik is already changed and is watching the life outside.

"It is so different from Makt," Burr says softly.

"Indeed," Henrik agrees. He turns to his cousin and smiles brightly, "Are we departing now?"

Burr glances outside again before giving affirmation. They leave the same way they had come in before and walked back to the place where the Bifrost set them down. Grass surrounds the whole area, and small children are running around, playing games and giggling delightedly. A few trees are scattered on the grass, and Henrik can see the form of his other cousin slumped against one.

Henrik runs to Frode and tackles him into a hug. The muscular warrior yelps in surprise, before returning the embrace.

"Decided to return, did you?" he snaps at Burr.

Before the younger man can retort, Henrik covers Frode's mouth with his hand, "Hush. Burr has something to say."

Burr clears his throat at Henrik's pointed stare, and hesitates as he tries to find words, "Brother…I am sorry. I have let my anger get the better of my self-control in the past _and_ last night. I now realize my selfish and obstinate behavior, and I beg for your forgiveness."

Frode stares at his brother wide-eyed and gaping. Finally he finds words and quickly stutters out, "I never thought this day would come to pass – I thought our days of camaraderie were behind us, but I never abandoned hope. Of course I forgive you, brother! And I must beg for your forgiveness, as well. I also let my anger best me."

"I forgive you, also," Burr murmurs. Henrik thinks Burr might cry as he hugs his brother. In fact, Henrik thinks _he_ will cry. The two brothers have been fighting for years – one might have thought they were arch-enemies if not for their surnames. This reconciliation was a wonderful sight. Henrik couldn't help it; he ran over and joined the hug, too.

When they finally pull apart, everything is calm. Then Frode exclaims, "Henrik! We have not yet done anything to celebrate your birthday!"

Henrik looked at him soberly and replied with a small smile, "My cousins living harmoniously again is the best present I could receive."

* * *

(1: _Laugardagr_ – Saturday, 2: Midgard - Earth [obviously - only a sidenote for those who don't know])


End file.
